The reflection of the Queen: Exile

Chapter 12

If my relationship with the Aursong was strained before, now it was a real nightmare.

The fact that the food tasted like heaven to me did not detract from the fact that three of the five people I was sitting with seemed to be trying to murder me with their eyes. Apparently, another advantage of becoming an Aursong was that I was now sharing a table with them.

My uniforms had disappeared from the dressing room, only the clothes I assumed Gracelie had gotten for me remained. Besides, it had been Fern who had brought Clariess to the table, with an exaggerated parsimony that no doubt irritated her parents. That joy was not to last long, for, as soon as she retired, Gracelie said it might be time to start looking for a more suitable lady-in-waiting for her little girl. In her own words, Fern was horribly vulgar, as well as unattractive. I detested the woman, but I found the comment most offensive.

The last few days I had skipped some meals in order to avoid those uncomfortable situations, but that noon I was so hungry that I was not willing to give up the delicious dishes served to the family. I sat in a chair between Clariess and her mother, focusing on finishing my lunch as quickly as possible while maintaining a minimum of decorum. Doing both at the same time was more complicated than I thought it would be. I was also trying not to look up unless I had to, because I wasn't going to find anything good. The favorite mealtime pastime seemed to be keeping an eye on me. Clariess was the only one who didn't seem to want to do that, who was uncomfortable around me. So when I looked up, this was what I could find: Fyodor giving me constant warning looks of restrained rage, Gracelie watching me out of the corner of her eye as if it was all my fault, or Cadmot acting like I was a dead animal lying on the table. The worst by far was Rodion. He didn't do it all the time, but every once in a while he would look up and give me a few blank, pitying glances. It was too irritating and painful, but I couldn't tell him in front of his family to stop at once or to be a little more discreet.

"Persie," the general's gruff voice almost made me jump. "Is there any news about training?"

"No."

"Are you making any progress?"

None. Scilla was still determined to practice the basics. Doing the things she ordered me to do, moving my reflex or holding objects with it was ridiculously easy. I highly doubted I was going to defeat Queen Furya by throwing a cup at her head. I wish I could.

"No."

"You don't try hard enough."

"No offense, but Scilla is not fit to teach me. She may have studied the Queen all her life, but she knows nothing about controlling magic."

The general frowned.

"Are you not satisfied with your teacher?"

"That's not what I said."

"Do you have demands, Persie? "

"I don't..."

Fyodor gave a bang on the table that startled us all.

"Then explain yourself."

I hesitated, but responded:

"Scilla is not a witch: I am."

Both Clariess and Rodion visibly tensed when I said that. I paid no attention to them.

"So what?"

"No matter how much research she has done, she has no powers. She can't teach me to control something she doesn't know."

"You'll have to figure it out. I hope you will have made good progress by next week."

"What should I understand as adequate progress?"